


The House of Blue Regret

by alphvjensen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 15:44:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphvjensen/pseuds/alphvjensen
Summary: Dean died, ripped apart by hellhounds and Sam, for the first time in his life, was left completely alone so he turns to the only person that he had left and that was Bobby.





	The House of Blue Regret

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that I don't normally do. I don't ship Bobby and Sam but you know, it was for spnkinkbingo and I'm up for trying anything once.

Sam didn’t burn him despite the fact that his whole life he has been taught to burn the bodies. Whether it be human or monster, fire purified the soul and made sure that it was finally laid to rest. But he couldn’t do it to Dean. He couldn’t burn him. It felt… too final and Dean… he wasn’t gone. Not for good.

So Sam buried him.

He laid Dean in the backseat of the Impala, wrapping him in a worn, flannel blanket and drove out to a place that only he and Dean knew about. That same field that they burned down so many summers ago on that Fourth of July weekend.

He grabbed a shovel and dug a hole big enough to fit his brother and buried him. By the time he was done digging, his hands were covered in blisters despite the fact that this wasn’t the first grave that he had to dig. In fact it was far from his first but still his hands were raw and bloody by the time he was done. He endured all the pain, though, because it was able to distract him from the pain in his chest whenever he thought about Dean and how he was really gone.

No. Not gone. Just… Dean was resting and waiting. Waiting for a way for Sam to find a way to bring him back. Just as Dean had done for him.

He climbed back into the Impala, wrapping both his hands in old rags because he knew that when Dean got back, he would completely bitch if Sam’s got anything on the steering wheel and stared out the windshield, unsure of what to do. He sat there for minutes, hours, staring straight ahead as he thought where to go and his mind kept coming up blank. Dean was usually the one that would pick places to go. He would look at Sam with this half smirk thing and rev the engine as he gunned it down the highway going god-knows-where and Sam was waiting for that. Expecting it even. He was waiting for Dean’s voice next to him, telling him what direction to point that Impala and go.

That voice never came. Day turned into night and he still sat there, hands practically shaking as he held on tight to the steering wheel and tried to keep from crying.

_ Men don’t cry. _ Dad’s voice rang in his ears, strong and demanding and the only thing that was keeping Sam together.  _ Men don’t cry, even when they bury their brothers. Square up your shoulders, boy and drive somewhere. Your brother isn’t going to get anymore alive with you just sitting there. _

Sam nodded to that voice in his head because as much as he hated to admit it, Dad was right. He always was right.

So he shifted the car into gear and pressed down on the gas pedal and just drove with no clear destination in his head. He got onto the interstate, pulling into the fast lane and going as fast as he could, not caring if he got into a wreck. Maybe, just maybe if he wrecked Dean’s precious Impala then he would come back. He did say that he would haunt his ass if he didn’t take care of the car.

He ended up not wrecking the car. Instead, he pulled to a stop in front of Bobby’s house without really being aware that he was driving towards him but regardless it felt right. He needed to be here. Besides Dean and Dad, Bobby was the only other constant in his life.

Bobby didn’t say anything as he opened the door to see Sam standing on his front porch, dark circles painted under his eyes. He just pulled Sam down for a hug, wrapping his body around Sam as much as he could. Sam leaned into the embrace, practically falling into the hug and Bobby grunted, just ever so slightly as he tried to keep the younger hunter upright.

“He’s gone.” Sam muttered, completely broken, into the crook of Bobby’s shoulder where his head was buried. “He’s gone and I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t stop it.”

Bobby swallowed around the lump in his throat and pulled Sam away, walking him into the house and pushed the kid down onto the couch in the living room. Sam looked up at him expectantly, those doe eyes wide with grief.

“He did this to himself, Sam. He knew what he was signing up for when he sold his soul in the first place. There was nothing you could ever do to save him.” Bobby rationalized because anything else he said would have been a lie.

But Sam was shaking his head, refusing to listen to it.

“You don’t understand. I promised him that I would… that I would save him and…”

“And he knew, Sam, that you were never going to be able to uphold that promise. Messing with death, making demons deals, that’s something that you can’t get out of.” Sam was still shaking his head and Bobby grabbed a hold of it, making sure that Sam was looking at him. “Your daddy and Dean was stupid to screw around with demons, you understand me? You can't screw around with shit like that.”

“But I have to save him.” Sam muttered, sounding like the small child he was. 

Bobby let out a humorless chuckle, dropping his hands from Sam’s face. “And that was your brothers mentality and that's what got him in trouble. And I know that it's difficult to hear, Sam, but he's gone. You burned him. His soul was taken by the hellhounds and there ain't nothing else that you can do.”

Sam looked off to the side, guilt over taking his face and Bobby clenched his jaw, reading that face like a book. 

“You did burn him, right Sam?” He asked even though he already knew the answer to his question. 

“I… I couldn't do that to him, Bobby. I couldn't lose him permanently and he's not gone, okay. He's just…”

“If you say resting, boy…” Bobby warned, leaving the threat hanging. 

“But I couldn't… Bobby, I'm sorry.” And those tears that Sam wouldn't let fall finally broke free and fell down his face. “I just couldn't burn him. Dad’s gone and Dean, he's always been there and I just couldn't…” Then Sam lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Bobby’s middle and clung onto him as he cried into the soft flannel that Bobby was wearing. 

Bobby awkwardly placed his hand on top of Sam’s head, unsure how to comfort him. It had been a while since he's actually had physical contact with anyone and he wasn't sure how to comfort a grieving brother. So he stood there and ran his hands through Sam’s hair and let Sam cry, completely unabashed. 

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, Sam clutching him and Bobby trying his best to comfort him but by the time Sam pulled away, Bobby’s knees were aching from standing for so long. Sam ran a hand along his nose, eyes red, an ache in his head and chest. 

“Why don't you go up and take a shower, Sam.” Bobby suggested. “I'll make up a bed for you. You look like you could use a solid twelve hours. When was the last time you actually slept good?”

Sam shrugged his shoulders. It had been forever since he's had a decent night of sleep. For the past couple of months, he's stayed up, researching for ways that he could get Dean out of his deal, save his brother and now, since all of that was over, his body ached for it. 

“Yeah. Go take a shower, Sam. Then you'll have a comfortable bed to sleep in for the night and you'll feel better in the morning.”

That was a lie. Sam knew that he wouldn't feel better in the morning. He wasn't sure how that would be possible. Not when he knew that his journey to find a way to bring Dean back would start but regardless he climbed to his feet. Bobby placed a hand on his shoulder, a heavy, comforting weight that relayed that Sam wasn't going to have to do this by himself. He would have help. Even if Bobby didn't support the idea. 

Bobby’s hand trailed down his back as Sam walked away and upstairs to the bathroom. 

Sam took as hot of a shower that he could stand, the water turning his skin bright red but he didn't really feel the heat. He was too numb to feel anything. 

Bobby was standing in the room that used to be Sam’s when he was younger and Dad would drop them off. The bed was freshly made, the pillows upturned. On the night stand there was a glass of water along with a bottle of whiskey like Bobby knew that Sam would need it later. 

Neither of them said anything as Sam walked into the room. Bobby placed his hand on Sam’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh before he ducked his head and left Sam in the room.

Sleep did not come easy. The room was too quiet, too empty. Like it was missing another body and it was. The room was missing Dean,  the sound of his breathing, the rustle of the blankets.

The little red lights on the alarm clock that was on the bedside table blinked out that it was a little after two and Sam threw off his blanket, tossing his legs off the side of the bed, sitting up. He sighed heavily, resting his head in his hands as he looked at the bottle beside the bed. Without thinking, he grabbed it and twisted off the cap, taking a long gulp, savoring the burn as it went down his throat. It settled there in the pit of his stomach.

It was a little after three and the bottle was nearly empty and while Sam didn’t feel completely numb, his inhibitions were down and there wasn’t that overwhelming ache in his chest.

And all he wanted was some human interaction.

He set the bottle down on the floor and rose to his feet, taking the extra time to stable himself before he stumbled towards Bobby’s room.

In the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn’t do this. That he should just crawl back into bed, wait until the morning. Something like that. Not this but he was already in front of Bobby’s bedroom door, hand poised over the door and he knocked before he could convince himself to turn back.

Bobby opened the door a couple minutes later, hair pressed to the side from sleep.

“Do you…” Sam looked down at the ground. “Do you mind if… could I… you know, could I…” He trailed off, feeling every bit embarrassed and stupid that he was asking for this. “You know what, nevermind. Sorry that I woke you.” Sam muttered turning around to walk back to his room.

However, Bobby wrapped his hand around Sam’s arm, turning him back around.

“It’s okay, Sam.” Bobby said, opening the door wider to let Sam in.

Bobby turned back to bed, crawling in on his side and watched as Sam walked around the bed, crawling in on the other side, laying on his back and stared up at the ceiling. It was awkward. Neither one of them could deny that. They were both acutely aware of each other’s breathing, the heat that they could feel from each other’s body.

And yet, it was kind of nice. It was nice to have someone else next to Sam and Bobby, he had always been there like Dean had always been there.

Sam turned on his side, looking at the man through the dark and after a moment, Bobby turned to look at him.

“What’s on your mind, Sam?” Bobby asked, voice low.

Sam shrugged. “Don’t know.”

Bobby cleared his throat. “Okay then, stop staring at me like that and go to sleep. You need it, idjit.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sam settled down into the bed and closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take him. He could hear Bobby settling down next to him.

Except he couldn’t fall asleep, just like he couldn’t in his own room.

He opened his eyes and while Bobby was still on his side of the bed, his eyes were open and they were looking straight at Sam, a small frown on his face but there was something else on his face that he couldn’t describe.

Sam reached out across the bed, moving slowly so that Bobby could stop him if he wanted but he never did. He just watched Sam as Sam cupped the side of his face, his thumb gently running along just under Bobby’s eye.

Then, without much thinking, Sam leaned forward, closing the distance between the two of them and Sam kissed Bobby.

Seconds later, Bobby pushed Sam away, his eyes wide as he jumped from the bed.

“Sam… Sam, you don’t want this. You don’t…” He muttered, running a nervous hand threw his hair. “Sam…”

Suddenly Sam sobered up, climbing out of bed, trying to add as much distance between him and Bobby as he could. “You’re… you’re right.” He mumbled to himself, eyes cast down ashamed. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Bobby. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have come here. I shouldn’t have… I’m gonna… I’m gonna go.” Sam pushed past Bobby, rushing back to his room to collect the few things that he had.

Bobby followed him, calling out Sam’s name but Sam ignored him, shaking his head. “I’ve gotta… I’ve gotta go, Bobby. I’m sorry.”

Bobby grabbed him by the shoulders and held onto Sam. “Sam… Sam, look at me. It’s okay. It’s  _ okay. _ Just look at me, Sam. You’re grieving. It’s okay. I don’t…”

Sam shook his head, twisting out of Bobby’s hold. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.”

And with that, Sam pushed past Bobby, pushing away the last bit of family that he had.

**Author's Note:**

> Your thoughts, comments and opinions are always welcomed.


End file.
